"hey sweetie, how was your day?"
and she replied she was okay
but there was something on her mind
someone she tried so hard to find
she thought he could fix her
change her for the better
but he didn't

*** dada dum dada
*** *** ***
Melodies cradle my soul just for fun
*** didi dum didi
Dum Dum Dum
Soliloquies burst off the tip of my tongue;
Lyrics illogical and beautiful, some.
Brilliant by accident, sudden, and young.
Tra lala di lala
Do do do
Convinced of the magical things words can do;
These lovely inscriptions, all assumed to be true,
Are not carefully built, nor genuinely glued.
Fa dala di dala
La la la
So from sockets comes streaming oblivious awe;
Silly and shameless, and secretly flawed,
For unknown was my motive until these stanzas were thawed
La, lala, la, lala, la la la
By the warmth of good fortune, and mind’s last hurrah.

Serotonin
Oxytocin
mu-2
Kappa
Melatonin
Acetylcholine
Dopamine
Ep­inephrine

Your love is a drug
your touch is an addiction
with pupil dilation
and body feeling free
I really do
even scientifically get high
when you are next to me

The hormones and pheromones
flow in through my nose
sink into my skin
and flow through
then out again
as we lay entwined
smelling
tasting
and touching each other.

To explain love
is both intangible
illogical
and unknown
while at the same time
a scientific
and physiological study
of the way our bodies interact.

True love
versus
lust and arousal
which is more addicting
and which is something worth predicting?

These must be the reasons
why when we are together
we cannot seem to think
we just want to sleep
we laugh about nothing
and smile for miles
we both go limp
and hard at the same time
sending us both on a ride
that leaves us flying high

I must say
that addiction runs in my family
and I am not sure
I will ever be able to give you up.
Worse than nicotine
caffeine
pills
and alcohol
Your love truly is a drug
and I will never leave you under the rug.

It is said that what is between two people,
is something no other will understand
even the most in depth conversation
can never explain
….and yet here I am
writing ten times a day
to try and convey this feeling to others
all in complete
pride and vain.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com

The Luna Moth

The moon does not in fact wax anything,
She does not wane; she simply ever-is;
She rules the softly-sung, soft-summer nights,
A willing queen, and willingly obeyed.
The luna moth, her winged votary,
Clings to indulgent oaks of their kindness,
Their moon-sent goddess from another world,
And strangely robed and crowned in lunar green,
Pheroming softly for some other moth
To come perform with her those rituals
Of love illogical, of sacrifice;
For all a luna moth can do is live
A summer week or so, but in those hours

She loves

In lunar beauty, strangely eternal
Who needs a dying luna moth?
                                                We do.

Isela
takes it in
the mouth.

She'd get on her knees,
positioning herself
half-in,
half-out
of focus.

Just enough for Joe,
behind the Cannon,
to capture
the whole thing.

Eric,
the producer,
was on his hands and knees
beside Joe.

'Come on Izzy
work it,
work the ****.'

'That's right,
stroke it,
make him sing.'

'I love it,
Izzy.'

Izzy wanted to bite
down.

She hated each and every ****,
she ever saw,
but she had a few things to do.

Her **** had to be new
and renewed
on the daily,
her ***** had to get wet
on command,
and her stroke had to be
so fast
they'd burn the dude
as her mouth
cooled.

After her mouth
was littered,
and her face was a mess
of spinal glitter -- You could make a man
come out of his
brain, Eric would say.

Izzy would get in her car,
wiping her arm
where'd she'd gone
to the clinic
to get pricked
and tested,
and pull a long haul of Virginia Slims
down her throat.
'
It was always the first sweet thing
she tasted.

Izzy would pull into the Terrace View apartments,
all that long black hair,
and wipe all that make-up off,
three napkins-worth,
so she could kiss her baby.

Because Rocco was in for a bid,
and not coming home anytime in
the forseeable future.

Her microbiology degree was somewhere
in her closet underneath those pink stillettos and
more fishnets than fish.

And Izzy knew
that with those double d's;
*** like a backseat,
mouth that could grease
a ****,
and her hands
Eric liked to call his own,
that she could pay the light bill
and maybe
put Romeo
into a daycare center
that wasn't full of roaches
and
angry *******.

"Someday I'll get out,
but it's illogical
to say
with all the money I'm making,
and it's just a job
when you get down to it,
I've ****** a lot of *****
and never gotten
paid."

Rocco Jr.'s cheeks were always the second
sweet thing
she tasted.

"I know a lot of girls
that got defeated by this game."

Some of us know illogical thinking.
Also known as illogical love.
It mystifies us.

And have destroyed some wonder relationship.
And hard-working man or woman.

Sits back and question it?
A man without a job sitting pretty with someone.
She adapts to being seen as an idiot.

Or a working man sits back and ponders?
How he lost his lady to an unworthy of her man.

Illogical love that has us all living with an opinion.

~for Wendy ~

with my almost two years old poetry advisor,
who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath,
of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors,
cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed,
snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets

as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation,
letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate
topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change,
and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else

which is greater, love or honor, she inquires,
sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor...
as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face,
insuring her having my full attention, while
taking advantage of my loving weakness

grandpa:
honor over everything my opening gambit,
while she coyly harrumphs in response,
one can love without reason for such are
our natural souls programmed,
but honor needs concentration and contemplation,
and if done right,
then love will surely follow!

She-Woman:
ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture,
cause love is too inexplicable,
old man, old man, did I not love you before
any season of reason crossed my brow,
and my vocabulary consisted of just
more, no, toy and hungry

what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct,
the definition of honor yet abstract,
while love is nature’s illogical construct,
coming first without restrictions,
while honor is malleable and
property of the eye of the beholder

grandpa:
wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct,
but while coming first, love cannot last,
until cover-coated with honor,
for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why,
honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say
yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested

She-Woman:
absent experience, for now will concede,
but be warned this is not over,
fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be

grandpa:
honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor,
comes the day that you will demand proofs that
what was unearthed & unearned
is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes,
when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do,
no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self

She-Woman:
adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day
when forced to concede, with a wrenched
‘child, I do not know,’
meanwhile change my diaper
after I karate chop your knee

Grandpa:
yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are
honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged
tween honorable humans

This is who I am and it will always be ILLOGICAL, IRRATIONAL and above all, STUPID.

I miss you.

You don't understand me. Its not feasible. Everything won't work. You won't work. I won't work. We won't work. You can't reason your way out of this. Not enough time. Not enough time for me. Not enough time for us. It would've ended anyways he tells me. I tell myself this over and over. Convince yourself, I AM INDEPENDENT. I will vitalize and intoxicate myself by myself. Thats what people do everyday. The issue being, I am not a genuine person. I persuade and assure myself I can handle this role and it satisfies my craving for normalcy. I'm not a gifted actress. I lose more and more social contacts due to this complication. I must learn from the independent ones so I can stop breaking apart these silly boys limb by limb.

You must stop making them care for you. You are not a whole person and therefore cannot be an authentic concern of others. You are imaginary. You are empty. Two opposite minds, insanity and sanity, fighting over the same body is an immense misadventure. Insanity wants to ******* boys, intently watching the peculiar escape routes they design. She sneers as they try and try, withered by a constant sense of defeat, each of them exhibiting exciting, unique and new qualities. She forces the body's muscles into a terrifying object. Then she denies his superiority complex of its primary function as he realizes that this damsel is in a permanent brand of distress. Sanity, however, is fleeting. Sometimes, she truly gives a **** about others. She is the pure example of meek, anemic and decrepit aftermath. She is selfless for selfish reasons. She wants them to adore her. She will exceed expectations, impresses and astonishes them. The product of this relished humanistic quality, acceptance, nourishes her. She savors boys who tell her she is strong and capable. Lies lies lies lies lies is all they speak. Its been too many years. She's forsaken by insanity.

Never enough time for this. Nobody has enough time. Who will give me the time? These days the clock shows seamless progressions to worse and worse. Sleepless nights remind me of night after night after night of our restless, unsetting and ineffective dialogues. Lets just go in circles for a little longer. Why not a little longer? Where do I find someone willing to linger with insanity? Just give me more time. I need a few more moments with real people to feel okay. Let me practice my part with you. Coach me. Tell me what to do next. I'm craving a sense of reality. I trusted you with it. Give it back. Give it to me. Let me have it. Feed it to me. Now.

I kid myself. If you get to know me a bit further I might let you peer at my Dali-esque picture of the present. Wonderland has me descending head first down the rabbit hole. Alice found herself stationary, bruised and filthy with temporary madness years ago. I've kept plunging for decades after and suddenly I'm gaining speed. Momentum, its all about physics. They throw ropes, then yarn, then thread to me. Once again the thread brushed my skin and I found possibility. The sensation of active nerve endings engaged my curiosity. I search for the sort of matter that could interrupt this regression. One faint wonder to what could have been is met by pathetic and pointless conclusions.

You are so associated. Everything and everyone is marked by inclinations. What affects you is the fact that you are now aware of it. You recognize that I see something different in you. I see something unusual. I see a habit. Nouns are consistently becoming verbs. You are not beneficial to this at all. I allowed you to be my unhealthy. I linked you to infection. Is that why I need you so badly? Is that why I want you back? You gave me composure from your expectations.You raised questions and I gave you the appropriate answers conjured from my ideals. I store a list of rules that are rarely followed. I let you in on every ***** secret so I had to abide by constructs of sickness. I had no other choice.

Will I ever be able to do this? If this is me and I am me forever who will swallow it? Who will take responsibility for my downfalls? Faults that are too confusing for explanation are menacingly sweet if you hold inquisitiveness, in place of a heart, on your sleeve. I can't understand. You can't understand. There is no more on and off switch somewhere in a dark basement. I'm not twelve anymore. I can't blame mommy and daddy. Its all my fault. I got myself here. It's my transgression. Don't you dare blame them. Recognize my liability. I ****** up this time but I found an oddity; I found perfection in this imperfection. It's something of a conundrum.

Computer science is fruitless thinking. I AM NOT A MACHINE. I am not a computer, not a mechanism, not a problem. I am not a riddle to solve. I am contradiction in every sense of the term. Its broken, shattered and pieces have gone missing. They were outdated and oppressive. They were thrown out, burned, buried, and forgotten. Once treasured, they became cumbersome and then dropped along the way. With them, logic vanished beneath my feet. Its gone now. I'm gone now.

Weightlessness necessitates a higher being than the imperfect human. It requires me to remain underwater, letting go of the compulsion to meet the surface for air. These ancient seas compel me and draw me further down with their loveliness and passion. I am mesmerized by the mania involved. You won't spot me in the engrossing waters. The black surface holds many afflictions.

RUN. FAST.

[PART 1]

**** everyone that’s ever been a friend of mine
Everyone that I ever loved until the end of time
So sick of sunshine, nothing but black clouds in my mind
I Sit seeing signs knowing that sometime soon it’s time
Seems we find a man stained with blood, spinning insane ****
Disaster’s in my lane but like Tech I pin and frame it
Don’t blame it on me when you embrace the inner furry
Spitting hurried words in a flurry, speaking absurdly
Has it occurred to thee, none of you could ever hurt me?
Absurdity, I feast on emcees, no obstacles for me
Illogical, living life like a beast, it’s mythological
Must be biological, the way I ****** methodical
Psychological warfare from one who never fought fair
Pathological nightmare, drops bodies without a care
Dare any soul to try and comprehend, this is the end
Once I begin, they all cry and slowly die from within

[PART 2]

**** everybody who ever passed anywhere near me
Everybody from my past who cared and yet still feared me
Nobody shed tears for me, or ever lent an ear to me
So now it’s clear to me, none of you are sincere to me
I disappear into madness filling my words with a blackness
No amount of cannabis can ever undo this sadness
Don’t ask me about my past; don’t think you’ll get past the mask
This just might be the last time you’ll EVER hear from my ***
Demons in mass and alas, I’m tangled within their grasp
Surpassed my peers and alas, I got no angels to ask
I’m mangled in my mind and it’s worse now that I’m all grown
Evilness in my bones plus I gets no rest in my dome
But I’m home at last with this pent up anger being shown
I’m alone; not a gang banger but I still hold the chrome
Come off my throne and try and comprehend, this is the end
Once I begin, they all cry and slowly die from within

There is a love that rages here.
A kind that's incredible.
One that's illogical
and addled.

It sees through eyes though blind.
It thinks with mind though insane.
It feels with heart though unscrupulous.
It chooses with thought though reckless.

It is selfish and it wants what it wants.
It doesn't care because everything else
bears little weight.
Inconsequential.

There is a love that surges here.
And we are but...
collateral damage.

Among the stars his memories travel.
Just trekking.
Just trekking into space.

Whether illogical or logical.
To him, it must make sense.
For his mission was never impossible.

And actor closely connected to Mr. Spock than many portraying the part.
He beamed truth to the millions fans of Star Trek with his wisdom and vision.

Whether upon the deck of the Enterprise next to his Captain.
He stood faithful and loyal to his crew.

Now you're apart of history of various scientific studies.
You're so deserving of being assigned to heaven.

I can't come to a point of understanding
Doubters and their condescension.
Seeing the life beyond seeing,
It is Life Himself they're questioning.

When Life came unbounded by space and time,
When Life lived like sand but even more fine,
Came to live with us, came from no matter how far.
Came to us on Earth, Bright and Morning Star.

In tranquil birth, caused the wise to fall on their knees,
Come in, sinner, needing no tax or fees.

In peaceful death, caused all the Earth to be forever quaking,
A click shot to the head, Death is crippled, walks without stinging.

I can't seem to understand, how unclear it can be,
How can Doubters call illogical, loving unconditionally.

How can they call the breaking of chains, a fake institution of freedom.
When Life came, and saw through our shame and called us inheritors of His Kingdom.

In tranquil birth, in peaceful death,
Beyond the grave, a victor in defeat.
In tranquil birth, in peaceful death,
I still don't get your lack of belief.

The struggle to overcome the differences        
        Between the impossible and the possible
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The struggle to overcome the differences        
        Between the impossible and the possible
Hope being the word that springs to mind.            
        To link these two opposites to attract.
Eternally wandering Cyber space side by side,    
         Hooking into every adjective or verb.

Seeking impossible causes and take away
    Excuses and make them once more possible
To overcome the bigotry and blind self-centred
     Mind sets of the Atheist Un-Believers
Reaching cornerstones of minds that Muslim          
   or        Christian Faiths never thought existed.
Unless you have all spent your life on earth
       In a Butterfly cocoon , not in real time.
GOD has chosen you to teach the differences
    Poetically between the Impossible n possible
Given that that if you don’t succeed first time
    You will eventually get it right next time.
Love for all your Fellow Men and Women
     May seem important,trust me it’s the way.
Every possibility, has been, at sometime within
     It’s long life, seemingly most impossible.

Take the clever fabrication of a silk purse
      Out of a muddy sow’s ear , if you will ?
Or the finding of a needle in a hay -stack.
       Or the abolition of third world hunger?

Or the creation of the Love of Nations unto
  Nations .The end all Wars n Ethnic cleansing
Very nearly every problem has a solution
    Indeed many solutions do often exist.
Electricity? How unbelievable to most thought      
    So impossible once upon a time.
Radio waves converted into the sweet sounds
     Ever to be heard by mortal Man.
Communication n instant chat across a globe
      In real time, one to one, No ? Impossible.
Of loving commitment betwixt different creeds
      And cultures ,without ever meeting possible
Mighty soon God will look down on the Earth
       And see two wonderful words rolled to one
Entreating the impossible always possible
        And the possible never impossible.

The struggle to overcome the differences
    Between the the impossible and the possible
Holy ,holy,holy ! Eureka , glory be .We are
     We are getting there , I really do believe.
Eternally where two poets or more can meet
    And compose , recite and critique as one

Differences are diffused between the
    Impossible and the possible, reduced to nil.
In practical terms every metaphor or rhetoric
    Noun verb or adjective can be polished.
From the most impossible dream into reality
     Of the finest poetry ever written.
From the dullest of dyslectic muttering
      To the most floral of sweetest love songs
Endlessly tripping from the lips of strangers
       Meeting strangers ,wisest verse ever ?
Reactivating opposites attracting impossibly
      With the possibility of judging for yourself.
Enactment with that poet that composed this
      Lengthy missive...you never wished to meet
Never in a thousand years of co-habitation
     Meeting this poet maybe possibly possible
Catch the impossible chance on the
     Boundaries of your mind to make it work
Every chance that catch can win the game
   Turning an impossible result into success
Success is the fuel to drive the possibility
   Beyond the full limits of the impossible

By making then the impossible possible
  You’ve changed in one action your whole life.
Every possible thought can be dismissed
    From your mind , possible for ever.
The sun to leave the sky ,rivers all run dry ?
    Babies not to cry ? No that’s impossible.
We have that song within our minds
   Which possibly keeps our feet on the ground
Every now and then to accept that all things
   Are possibly impossible
Even mighty magicians from time to time
   Cannot turn, however hard they try by day n
Night to raise experiments turning base metals
     Into gold. For no good reason save reward.

The gold that they are seeking is currency
     But to the poet it is the currency of rhyme
Heroic epic verses ,Odes,Rhyming verse
    And translations left right and centre.

Ethereal gifts making sense of the hopeless
    Antiquated jumble of English words n idioms

Impossible smilies as impractical unfeasible
     Unworkable, unattainable,inconceivable.
Measured against the conceivable by remove
     Of the whole reason for failure or excuses
Possible solutions are always potentially
     Available to the ever open mind of a poet
Obtain if you will the very unattainable for if
    You believe in God you most probably will.
Subjected to the most absurd verbal abuse
     Of an unromantic Philistine or carping critic
Stand upon your highest tip toe . Tall as you
  can be, yell and yell , making yourself heard
In so doing even an ugly Giant , fearsome
   Fire breathing Ogre will be confused awhile.
Blinded by the impossible beauty of the prose
   You write and the melodious songs you sing
Like the charming of a deadly Cobra,
  Mesmerised into loving every living thing
Every time you may have a smudge of doubt
  Creeping into your positive life with negativity.

Awake in that moment and assume that
   Nothing is nothing like as impossible as it is
Nothing was ever impossible to God .
   The one true creator, HE passes on his skills
Don’t be lead to believe by others that your life
   Is at all ludicrous, if that life works for you.

The struggle to overcome the differences
   Between the impossible and the possible
Herculean . If you stop to think about it ?
    Best have the courage of faith ,you’ll resolve
Each and everything you ever put your mind to
As unacceptably,positively out o’the question.

Practicable solutions and compromise dilutes
    The acid contamination of the perfection.
Oh, I have seen this in my life so many times
     Before ,sadly only to expect to see it again
So take away any excuse for failure .Find !!
   the tools to make the unthinkable thinkable
Substitute the negatives for a positive frame
  Of your mind the unreasonable to reasonable
Illogical thoughts and actions you convert
   By your process of logical practical analysis
Before long , my goodness it’s before your very
   Eyes. The simple solution to the problem
Like a magic wand covered in Fairy dust
Making every impossible task possible in time
Earth took its creator only six days to design
  and several million years for us to get it as is
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 14th 2018.

Logic is not an end, it is a pathway,
with happiness as a goal, anything seemingly illogical can be justified
Enjoying clouds is illogical and irrelevant, pointless,
Wearing matching shirts to track is unnecessary,
"Why would you logically find joy in something like that?"
You cannot look at the individual incident.
there is always a reason to be unhappy-
Unless the goal you are striving for is to be happy- in which,
finding joy in anything is logical-
because the very act of feeling joy is a choice to increase endorphins,
not a result of stimuli.
Humor in itself is illogical and pointless to your survival,
but to make your survival worthwhile, it is exactly what you need.

Everything's a ******* square.
My journal.
The rich kid crackers.
My pillows, safe as they are.
Some are seam-stretched,
manipulated by a team of God and tired hands
a more desirable something,
thrown away just the same.
My parents.
My head.
The entire visionary sidewalk-gray sky,
as down is up for most, my neck associated with.
It wraps itself a ballooned cube, square faces
to be pinned over themselves by shapely oceans and unwitting gulls.
******* annoying gulls.
I fed one a firework once
the kind you throw at your sister and it pops on her
and she cries, illogical from her eye sockets in
steeped in the terror of the 9/11 on her swimsuit.
Snatched, exploded
Feathery tears rained,
a little less illogical.
I'm vegetarian now.
No relation.

Today is the day. As in customary, we shall start with the weather: The morning is clear and cool, the sunshine weak but well-meaning, the wind sweet but sharp and the trees green and chatty.

This day has been a long time coming. This day has. For too long it has skulking amongst the future pages of some misplaced internal diary. It's long shadow has been edged with fear, dreaded like an exam. Said fear melts away like yesterday's clouds, replaced by sunny optimism, for this date is now set in stone, frozen hard over night it now stares me down with oblique neutrality.

I'm not going anywhere, it whispers softly. You're fears are misplaced. Your fear of me is a your fear of death. Useful up to a point - but essentially irrational. Whatever will be will be and it will today.

The morning gather pace and after momentary brief salutations and briefer negotiations the train is boarded. The destination: no one knows. We know the names but they seem oddly sterile now, the sound cold hard lumps in our mouths, currency worn smooth: Edale, the pennines, the peaks, Absorbic. Citric. Folic, Formic Carbonic. Sulphuric. Deoxyribonucleic, Lysergic. Acid.

The absurd signposts of anonymous hamlets lazily swing by with increasing rapidity, blurring into one like the blades of a helicopter.

Post-industrial scabs and sores instantly give way to merry bucolic splendor as itchy, thick balaclava of the city in torn away. Laugh about nothing as we are hurled headlong into some postcard image of an England long lost between 'then' and 'now' where trees sing, walls are dry-stone and happy cows and sheep await noble, happy deaths; all wrapped in honey-coloured sunshine.

Rolling mounds of soft green matter undulate gently to a halt, and we emerge intrepid coloniser of a galaxy far far away. Locals eye us warily, the hot sun looks down angrily now. The baking mud coughs dust in our eyes and yellow spears of dead grass stab our tender shins. The warm fuzzy nostalgia that we are draped in gives way to...something else. Illogical patterns snake across verdant valleys, breathing and twitching. Harsh blue sky melts into hazy horizon, like oil on water. Panic sets in.

Pleading looks are exchanged and whilst reassurance is sought, none is found. Each gaunt face is scoured for hints of strength. Leaderless we wade through a sea of shimmering heat, collecting beads of sweat, losing hope of succour. We seek solace in plastic pound-shop distractions, only to find we are rendered too numbskulled to operate children's toys. Terror turns to horror. The yawning maw of madness, death is now so close we are caressed by it's putrid breath...

Release! Baking savannah morphs to cool,  mottled-green grotto and everything has already changed. All is bathed in verdant peace and ears can feel the cool lapping of a friendly stream.

She stole her own joy played it close to the vest she gave new meaning to the idea of being straight
Laced she was controlled even to the point of obsessive as an observer looking in you came to this
Conclusion and this picture was formed in your mind she lived in a small cube not quite a cell but the
Shadow of bars were cast on the floor and she did pace like a person does in a cell but when she slept
She went from inhibited limitation to the large expanse from dismal to the ornate elegance it was her
Dream lover the illogical prisoner of her own design it was through his presence his style in commanding
A domineering grand elegance that was the first tender sleepy voice that spoke freedom into her rigid
Trap of unhappiness it was the breaking in upon and surprising the lovely creature she was capable of
Being she arose in this sleep walking existence her gown was off the shoulder her shoulders and arms
Was the flash of femininity her woman hood each move of her dance was perfection the lines were
Impeccable these grand rooms held her framed her in grace his words still was her guide he called to
All that is women she answered as only someone who is newly free that was part of the magic but only
A small piece because the real show was how she released secretly those moves of loveliness the
Stunning spectacle of grace she portrayed made the great chandelier seem quaint in comparison
It was outshined without light but her form was electrifying and the central theme was you are seeing
Mythology drawn down legendary quality in stilled in my being the sum total of longing to even brush
Past you incite pleasure want to see man complete look no further than woman the dazzle the invite
Spoiled bored lifeless until she walks she speaks truly dreamlike scenes splash and flow out into the
Distance you get to inhabit them but they are not dreams they are real you are a prince there is a lot of
Truth about her kiss can change a frog into a prince want to experience what this piece is talking about
Go to your beloved she has to be prompted she only needs your suggestive word it will open her cell
That life loves to create in lives she has fallen into the trap that she is no longer attractive exciting trap
Rhymes with pardon me crap I could continue explain the full proof plan but I don’t need to just be the
Impetus reorder your own mind just be the man of her dreams and get out of the way because a
Butterfly a swan will emerge from the shadows and partially blind you and yes a little touch of madness
Will grip you bliss always has that effect a gift stands before you how large it will grow is up to you be
The romantic counterpart and I swear you will see the very mist of Avalon and all that goes with it the
White charger her head wearing a crown its lies below the outer woman it’s within her soul speak magic
Prince and a royal life will be yours

If the writer is not the reader and the reader is not entered
(entertain-ed?) by the trial or trier
here in our phor of oroboronic

wheel spinning, our world of
entertaiment
contained,
be
coming to meet, um,
-phatics of sorts unheard,
ignored,
or unshown, un-

init-
iated unit-
ary, you,

become the
eleventh hour ***, none hired.
Apo

Unem, come work my field, *** my hard rows
no early helpers
weeded

Attention glitch... some signal intra fearal

No worry,
-- fear of god beginning wisdom boot code;

that connection
has been loose so long, missignaling
special and free,

a special sort of
crudescence has scabbed the short.
It's a brain fix.
You get a feel for it, the augments help,
Om as the
Axionic go, is tuned to absurdity. Listen.

Hear me, dragon-lizard-brain. We are a team. The team.
All the story stories tell of you and me. We unite.
We get our act together, and we
go mad, in the sight of all earthlings augmented to see
Youtube.

By my ab-surd-ifity, all our stories change. An unmatched wave.

-- forgive the footnote, but don't lie about what we both know is true:

absurd (adj.)"plainly illogical," 1550s,
from Middle French absurde (16c.),
from Latin absurdus "out of tune, discordant;"
figuratively "incongruous, foolish, silly, senseless,"
from ab- "off, away from,"
here perhaps an intensive prefix,
+ surdus "dull, deaf, mute," which is possibly
from an imitative PIE root meaning "to buzz, whisper"
(see susurration).
Thus the basic sense is perhaps "out of tune,"
but de Vaan writes,
"Since 'deaf' often has two semantic sides,
viz. 'who cannot hear' and 'who is not heard,' ab-surdus can be explained as 'which is unheard of' ..." The modern English
sense is the Latin figurative one,
perhaps "out of harmony with reason or propriety." Related: Absurdly; absurdness.
--
Screech, boomers know, finger nails on the chalkboard, the blackboard
jungle screech,
when teacher is takin' a smoke. Absurdity is entertainment.

It can make you think in whole new ways.
Or stop your believing of a lie

for long enough to see
a hope, no lie, a hope of something human
**** sapien sapiens augmental,
upright under Good and Evil,
sheltered from the storm.

A class, a level, a common value beyond Belief and Dignity and

dexterous sinister plots of points where clues were pinned,
yet you
overlooked the message, daze-led by the angels dancing.

Thales fell into this hole. He survived. It all ties in

The new -phatic word that started this stream ends it,
with our common
scream for meaning fullness apo-

apo-phatic mystery of sympathy,
bha, bha --

Paradox ortho
pedic augmentations, koan to mantra,
meditation on the word of words,
step to step to step logical
logos-centric reason, logo-istical rite to
evince a visible faith,
a virtue signal,
a mark, between the eyes,
an aim,
a point to spring a story from
upon an unsuspecting child averse to boos.

Trauma at a bubble pop. When all we know, dear
reader, is lost, and our bubble's edge sur
past our horizons,
we are mine-yoot, mispent attentions being

recycled, for goodness sake. Old lies twisting
into first fruits of the know
ing tree, ideas mani-fest
ing
ting, ding

Aha, my bubble of thought ala
funny papers in the old days where we met and laughed
together
in America, before we knew
earth from this distance
fifty years ago.

Wishbooks were real,
Whole Earth Catalog suppliers
sold me my nets, my hooks, and lines,

I learned the ways men have caught fish.
Wishing all the while for a way to live as earthlings live.
Guided by witty inventions, messengers
from the gods, eh.

Easter eggs, tucked away in retro games surfacing on Wall Street.

Who manages the messages released when the
first trump sounded?

That was me, as real, Asreal Kanbe, a walkon role.

I saw a third,
at least, of all the fish in the sea die,
in the duration of a single
short-span standard life. All seven trumps did sound, though,

they may be like lizards, we don't hear them well.

These seventy years of captivity
in the tales of my culture, my people and the ways they live in peace,

in the ways they resist war, sistere in peace with faith, the idea, the deed,

faith works in acting. True. Eh. Faith without action is dead.

Incandescentis onburnedupus, ****, dark. Switch on switch off
nada
dark dark faith sees nothing, ah so what, we muddle in puddles

and fail to portage for fear of surface I can't sticking to our
iron shod feet,
miry clay, heavy steps ******* the good news socks off
our beautiful feet,

see hear focus id - i dent ify the why, find the how-

thought change changes thinker, not thought.

Which of you can make one wire plus or minus by taking thought?
Taking anxious thought? Eh?
Fret not. Ohmmmmmmmm

my god, why the threats? Why must I fret for never making sense?

Dee ahna knowledge chan zen

consider the opposite, the shadow of turning, not doubt

preserve light and darkness little man
preserve sun and moon and stars

lose your wish to catch the Magic Fish.

But that is my wish, my wish for one more wish,
I wished to catch the fish

which taught the lessen to the fishher whose wife
could not be satisfied.

I wished for a source of all the answers ever found,

Ah. and I got this global brain that remembers ever,
though we know only now.
Never before,
has this been past that which men hoped for,
unseen.
Faith for the world to become as it now is,
is finished.
What a man sees, why does he hope for?

It worked. Self-evident, right. Same class as life and liberty.

Chickeneggical,
**** or ovoidal elliptical slices of life, those arrive for our

per-use-al, right or wrong. Like a Fabrege' egg:
You break it, you bought it. Life ain't fair. But it works.
Pick up the pieces.
They all still fit. None are missing. Some are broke,
but a soft touch can fix em.

You were always Humpty-Dumpty. This had to happen once.

Good side always shines, when
the rub has been dealt a shine-on signal for ever sake,
no reason,

just cause. A man can, even mad, be as happy
as he can imagine being,
at the time, all things considered, augmentasciously.

This was my oldest memory today, the future
shall come, and whatever
shall be, shall be, que sera sera.

How are you bored? This is earth. Even if you wish otherwise.

There are new things we may learn if we choose.

--apophatic (adj.)
"involving a mention of something one feigns to deny;
involving knowledge obtained by negation," 1850,
from Latinized form of Greek apophatikos,
from apophasis "denial, negation,"
from apophanai "to speak off,"
from apo "off, away from" (see apo-) + phanai "to speak,"
related to pheme "voice," from PIE root *bha- (2) "to speak, tell, say."

I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden.
Maybe I would call it eating light.
Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice:
apophatic mysticism, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and
kataphatic mysticism, less well defined:
an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation.

Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole,
a kataphatic mystic,
as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts:
but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles.

Francis and Thérèse were made, really made,
any mother superior will let you know,
in the dark nights of their lives:
no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God's arms

When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period,
my grandmother took me aside and said,
'Now your childhood is over.
You will never really be happy again.'
That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism.

But, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire.” 
― Mary Rose O'Reilley, The Barn at the End of the World: The Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd

That’s what it felt like when we lost you
To the complex maze that became your truth.
A self-enlightened mind
Impermeable to light, to touch, to time.
An inner sanctum of make-believe so outrageous, so utterly unbelievable
Made of illogical truths only you sought achievable.

What led you to this I can only hazard a guess
Was it divorce, insecurity, a lifetime feeling like you were less.
Why has it come out now when time has already been the test
Was it the lack of medication, a lack of rest.

My brother you are wounded.
Your mind an open sore.
Rest your weary soul.
Torture and pain no more.

I am a criminal, 
A low down ***** convict, 
Robbing old ladies and turning the youth into like minded thugs and killers. 
With my gun, I can turn any day into new years eve. 
Bang! Pow!
I've just shown you how, 
I ***** somebody's light out. 

I live by the gun 
Ready to pull it out and start blasting away,  
And if you're in the way? 
I hope you've had an eventful final day. 
One more body to my death toll is of little consequence. 
And to  those who choose to cross me
will be dealt with in a premeditated sequence. 

So many women I've widowed, 
So many children I've left with only half a family.
Do I care?
No. 
For my heart is as black as my skin 
I have no feelings of remorse or empathy. 

Or do I? 
Am I really this despicable person? 
Is what I've just said is not me at all, 
Or just what people perceive me to be.

The truth is, that's all it is
A perception 
A perverted perception forced upon me and others like me by illogical stereotypes, 
A perverted perception perpetuated to the the point where it has become the status quo,
A belief so deeply ingrained in the minds of the masses that I become public enemy number one, two and three, 
so deeply ingrained that I should not know what it means to be free, 
so deeply ingrained that I should not even be given the change to better myself. 

Does this perception out rank reality?
Does conceptuality govern the actuality of reality? 
 

If so, I perceive this world to be full of ****.

The sky is solid, gray, motionless.
Shuffling bodies with obscured shadows
Make haste for shelter
From the stark, lifeless outside
With its grass that only lives if watered,
The always leafless trees,
And the carcinogenic air.
Looking upward,
Through the smoggy haze,
One sees the neon silhouettes
Floating in the sky,
Atop the glass and steel monoliths.
They speak to those below,
Of subtle, clandestine oligarchy.
Subconsciously belittling the anonymous masses,
"We are Titans, you are rats."
Say the towers,
As the populace quietly passes over stained concrete and asphalt,
Wearing breathing masks,
Saying not a word to the thousands they pass.

We make haste in this world.
We cannot afford to help a stranger,
To make a detour with a view,
To get your child that gift they really want.
So fiercely we have been strangled
That empathy is illogical.
"What a world" we all say,
As we avoid eye contact with the hungry;
As we change the channel from the melodramatic infomercial
About starving, disease-ridden children somewhere else;
As we console ourselves with hollow entertainment and intoxication,
To keep the guilt at bay,
To keep the thoughts at bay,
"Just do what's best for you,
Don't step out of line,
Shuffle in,
Follow the queue.
That's all you can do."

That this world is full of sparkles and magic if you’d only look up
It’s not all bar charts and logic and predictable outcomes
Sometimes, things, don’t go how we thought they would
And sometimes it’s true they go even better
I know it’s crazy talk
You think it’s logical that I won’t find a love that will want to marry me
And that it’s even more illogical to think they’d want to sing Joshua Radin’s  “One and Only” with me
And even more ludicrous still to think I’d be able to learn and play the Ukulele during it
And I’m here to tell you
It is logical to think that maybe I’ll fall in love with a girl who loves me back
That she might want to sing with me at a wedding of ours
And that I can learn an instrument
Law of big numbers says so

Roman candles aren’t always lit on the Fourth of July
Sometimes it’s New Year’s Eve
Sometimes it’s the tingle in your spine when a kid jumps off a swing at the peak of their pendulum
Sometimes it’s gunpowder and colored sparks
But other times it’s hormones and spring and eyelashes
I know the world is safer when we do cost benefit analyses of our Friday night options
I know if we all acted like insurance adjusters that we’d never get hurt
Did you know if you go outside right now and look up, you won’t see the Milky Way

I am Aladdin, I have a carpet, and I know where the magic is
I know how to cast levitation spells
Have you ever turned a rock over just to see the bugs run
Ever kissed a stranger just to see if maybe that love at first sight thing was real
I dare you to take a left when you always turn right and see what the world brings you
Maybe you’ll run out of gas, sure, maybe
But maybe you’ll find a bench
Or an old woman who needs help across the street
Or the best photo opportunity you’ve ever seen

Shirk a responsibility for me will ya and play tag with a firefly
There are waterfalls worth chasing
Love is one of them
Laughter is another
Fear can be sometimes
Friendship is always one

Magic is everywhere
It’s on Wednesday night meetings of old strangers at the pub
It’s the first time you hold their hand
It’s a falling star, just the one you saw, in the whole sky
That you never would’ve seen if you stayed home
Go find it
Open your heart to the world
Close your eyes if it helps you see
Magic is logical
If magic wasn’t everywhere we wouldn’t have poems
Or songs
Or Disney
Or a hotel made entirely of ice in some far away country
It’s not so hard to find if you look for it

I’ve got one
A simple one
No risk
No cost
Can’t hurt anything
Won’t miss nothing
Go outside tomorrow
Right during sunset
Don’t worry about the sun or the horizon
Leave your cell phone at home
I know, the horror
Find a stop light
Look at it
Keep looking at it
Stare
Just a little longer
Look for it
The magic
It’s as quick as a flicker
You’ll know it when you see it
Here’s a hint: it starts with a spark
It’s over in a moment so don’t look away
After that it’ll just go back to a stop light you’ll never think twice about
But for a moment it will have been the best stop light in the world
Better than all those fancy New York City stop lights
Pretentious *******
Because you were under it
Because you watched it come alive
Or maybe just because you wanted it to be

Sure life can be a ***** sometimes
And thinking ahead can save a lot of turmoil
Oh but what’s a boat ride if the sailing is smooth
Certainly isn’t a story worth telling
And I want my life to be a story worth telling

That moment when I’m at the wedding I didn’t give up looking for
Where the flowers are my colors
The center pieces my dream come true
On a stool next to my wife on a stool singing a silly love song to our family
I won’t be thinking yeah, you’re right, it was illogical to keep looking for this
I’ll be twisting, turning, free wheeling
I’ll be surrounded with shimmers and sparkles
I’ll be Wingardium Leviosa-ing all over that dance floor
And the cost benefit analysis of looking harder for what I really wanted
Will look like my middle fingers doing the hustle in matching velour suits

Stop worrying about what might happen
Start dreaming about what might happen

this just in:
a needless road rage killing
a senseless movie theater killing
a pointless middle school shooting
a meaningless ****** suicide
an irrational child homicide
an illogical workplace massacre
a specious robbery shooting
a mistaken identity ******
an inane ****** for hire plot
a random killing of a farm family
a worthless gang related ******
a futile car jacking slaughter
a crazy serial killing
an groundless paperboy shooting
an unnecessary police shooting
an unfounded revenge ******
a juvenile crime gone wrong
a harebrained scheme ending in blood
a mad shooting spree
more at eleven

1. you may feel that your feelings are illogical.  you may feel stupid for even having them in the first place.  don’t.  you have every right to every feeling you are feeling.
2. getting the feelings to go away will be difficult.  the more you think about how you wish you didn’t have them, the longer you will.  it’s okay.  you’ll move on eventually.
3. you may have thought they were perfect, the only one for you.  that will fade.  soon you’ll find the real one who will be everything you thought they were and more.
4. breathe.
5. remember that in a few years, they’ll just be someone you used to know.
6. silently watching them with someone else will eat you up.  it will hurt more than anything.  you’ll feel alone and overdramatic for feeling so much for them.  in these times especially you need to do all you can to get them out of your mind.  i know it’s hard.  find an outlet; surround yourself with friends; indulge in reading or running or whatever you like to do.  focus on yourself and not them.
7. breathe.
8. breathe.
9. breathe.
10. you know deep inside that they are just a tiny corner of the big picture.  everything will be okay.  tell yourself that every day.

"Being Processed Overload", doesn't come with many benefits, when your already tolerant of one thing, and one single thing...ONLY...!
By any chance, what do you think that one single ONLY thing is...?
Well, it's nothing more than what's come beforehand, or afterwards...
After all, what becomes fully "silence" at the end of the day, is nothing more than what is generally written, or seen, or even displayed (fully), "between the lines".... And it won't make a single slither of sense, unless your willing (to give yourself that one single "affordable" chance), to not be in a state of "Processed Overload", anymore!
Implying, that the most obvious results ("had"), and ("will"), always hide from deep within the states in-between the things that "can be seen", and the parts (of those very "things", that for some strange reason haven't fully yet been discovered), had remained entirely significant in part towards those very things that..."can't be seen"). Hiding, (when you least expect them to do so).
So, the whole point of being processed overload, is the very claim, that you are witnessed to something that can't be entirely seen... Or else, you'd become entirely "Overloaded" with too many processes!
When you’re already dealing with enough as it is... Especially when those very states in-between are hard enough as it is to see ("from within"), to begin with.
It's a full contact sport (when life get's significantly rough for your own eyes to become terribly outwitted by all that processed overload)!
It's when a totally realistic testament for truth (in itself), when being faced with so much, (without enough benefits to help you grab hold onto what's entirely tolerant that comes and goes either beforehand, or even afterwards...) Eventually speaking, it is the very basic lesson of things being entirely...ruled out.
So, it doesn't keep sticking too you, like a VERY BAD THORN IN YOUR SIDE! Forevermore telling what you should and should not do. And lastly, forcing you to see reason, as nothing more then for "control" to be seen as a pure...illusion.
While being so discouraged of (once being able to see from within, "at one moment" beforehand, then entirely fully dropping afterwards, when met with yet another, "specific moment", that most important...)
This most potential realization, (if at all you have caught onto it by now, of simply being so, where you'd learn from it, as who knows...you haven't particularly been doing it to begin with, as of yet...) Then, it's safe to say, that (while you try and try some more, eventually coming around to some type of partially known/partially unknown progress being involved...), doesn't exactly mean there's a type of significant progress in your failures, (for simply being able to understand).
You understand because you think you've made progress with the main issue, which is now clear for...ALL TO SEE!
Then suddenly out of the blue, (and as if it hadn't already been obvious enough...) Things start eventually becoming baseless. Coming to a very abrupt "fixated" halt!
But that doesn't actually mean you have seen (and then most prominently, "recognize") "why you do it!" Which forces you to start believing that everything is truthfully..."unclassified." Enabling everything (you once held dear).
Typical beliefs (within your own once secured belief system), now suddenly become...flawed!
Since the only expectation, was other's approval (apart from your own). And if you’re not able to see what is obviously in the states from in-between, then you’re literally going to see a one-sided viewpoint of everything for the remainder of your life. Controlling you in a pure illusion... From never explicitly being able to see (the other half of that entire viewpoint), with a straight open-mind.
Meaning, lifestyles will remain forever warped!
And your own lifecycle will continue to both shift drastically. Which in tune will remain as the very same dramatic "repeat", forevermore!
For the lack of reason that slowly but surely keeps both flowing inward, and outward... But not in the right type of recognition for your very self to both handle with careful consideration towards that very recognition, or for that very basic of acknowledgements just so you can handle yourself as you make your way through the different "fields full of clutter" (that seem to forevermore block your sights from simply being able to see clearly), with careful consideration...for your own identity to bear!
Because at the end of the day, identity (especially one that is trying to ALWAYS find different ways to sense, then fail here and there...)
Is nothing more than a tired effort...full of such actions...that keeps significantly turning into consequences...full of doubt.
(However, it may never be real doubt happening, when the consequences are just blaming you for your past, AND present faults of a tired effort that can't use their own actions very well anymore, when you’re also not seeing clearly again, anymore, either). Except, when your own presently perfect and overused (always in the limelight) doubt that of course, starts "sugar-coating" the very truthful actions (when you know you obviously already did something wrong), with nothing more than a good old dose of...guilt! Your regular and normal perception of things becomes utterly...twisted! Mangled! Bent out of shape! Stringing you up and wrapping you ever so tightly! Abruptly popping out a random pitiful bow (like on a present) full of both negativity and unprecedented bad luck on top of an entirely disfigured and misshapen present! (Not to mention the very wrapping paper that had become this HUGELY distorted pattern, that influences you in such a wrong sort of way, because again... So, you won't see clearly!) Until there was nothing left but...silence!
Silence at the end of the day, is seeking pleasure (in the moment of doubt, which significantly amplifies guilt), without taking the necessary time to fruitfully take noteworthy details into account...), that you truly have been "duped" this entire time...by your already currently corrupted self...who had been entirely "compromised"...long ago!
(And here's the very sad, and worst part... You didn't even see it happen....) Totally not your fault. It's just lives very bad tempos full of those constant rhythmic beats (that turn entirely into HUGE gimmicks that detests the very pattern...), which doesn't become soiled...when it's (even worse then EVER before), where the very beats have been already weeping alongside your own strides full of hesitant footprints that don't relate to the same old size shoe of the many lookalikes of footprints that followed after the other.... Almost as if everything then started with a beat full of such a rhythm (that came and went, as it naturally would). Then become suddenly confused when it's nothing more than for the sensation/feeling to become abruptly filled...as an everyday common joke. Then...for a pattern literally too weep alongside moving forward ever so gently, (by gently striding with the slightest of common footsteps you could literally muster, where there's no such accumulation where everyday common footsteps could be seen...) But here's the catch (which comes with a GREAT kicker involved...), where you can seriously see it from within, (and not entirely from the outside of yourself). Which entirely distorts this very meaning to begin with.
Even if you had... It had already been too late! When you were truthfully blinded from the very...START!
If only whatever comes (beforehand), or fully starts tolerating the (state that comes beforehand), where the (state of coming afterwards), then of course comes...after, (that which "what is beforehand"), is then helpful enough in being simply portrayed as nothing more...than what you could have already fully expected.
Except, when you anticipate something even more wrong...because your very own expectations (about the very main situation at large/involved), had become unsteadily stranded for dear life. Drifted away, since the very compatibilities didn't match up correctly. (And while being potentially forevermore left adrift without so much as a single change of scenery, (since you'll always stay the same...) Because you simply didn't know how too! Or even worse, being so processed overload, that you have let everything grow around you like this constant "Underbrush"!
An Underbrush seems to always be full of such twists and turns! Overly protruding vines that both poke and ****, according to your very own limitations wasting away the only strength that you held bear for so long... You are just lucky enough...you had lasted this long...! A truest claim among such miracles, that can only tolerate itself long enough...before it truly realizes what's been in front of it's very self (this entire time). And at which time...forces you to again, realize (and then sadly force you to then in its entirety, to acknowledge...), at just how much you've been in the "wrong"...this entire time....
Which in doing so, HEAVILY influences the very reasoning right out from under your own logic, which makes your own reason EXPEL that very logic, and just...throws it directly straight out the window like it's some yesterdays unimportant choice of reasoning! (Even going as far as to then look at it like it's pure...trash!)
(When today, it isn't truly looked at as the very center of one's own ordeal!)
I mean, of course it is...but your now stuck in that very illusion, (where now thinking control is this very illogical, negative, immoral, etc.), piece of obstructed, and nonsensical piece of doo-doo! ...And that isn't right about ANYTHING! Except, for what you have yet to ("properly see").
Guilt then (forevermore) forms into doubt...and the same lifecycle repeats, repeats, repeats...REPEATS! Until it had ****** YOU DRY! Of every type of energy reserve, you had (within yourself), in order to now begin compensating the very same structure of energy again, (in your very self, by simply using back-up energy reserves, or whatever "juice" was left from those previously already still presently being ****** dry/infected energy reserves that had already been literally either fully, or at the very least, nearly ****** DRY in itself!), of everything it held within it's personal possessions from both ends of the same spectrum.
Just so you can then simply "use" in order to clear away the many obstructions that have spread FAR AND WIDE...!!!
But word of both warning, and that of course of...caution.... Is that it's not going to be some easy and sane type of task, where you are able to just miraculously cleanse...EVERYTHING!
Just so you can then become (even more) an inner victim of your own already corrupted self.
"Being Processed Overload", is a state of INTENSE "ramifications"...of being filled with an already unrecognizable consciousness!

This fear is consuming me
A rope tying tightly around my throat
My chest
My stomach
Constricting my breath and cutting off circulation
Thoughts are spinning spinning spinning
Through my hollow mind
They won't stop
They're stealing my sanity
How do I function through this
When my mind knows it's illogical
But I cannot stop the panic that's destroying me?
I need an escape
I feel trapped but I'm not
I don't know what to do
This isn't the first time
And it isn't the last I'm sure
I don't know how to escape this
When I'm running from myself

Every day I see this guy pass by my door,
he never steps off the path.
His hair speaks of his woe.
His steel eyes arrange the sky into a box,
the blue is not enough to keep him idle,
he requires the chains of logic.
It keeps him grounded when he could be flying.

“Why should I fly,” he says,
“It’s much too cold for me anyway.”
“Wear a jacket” I might declare.
He would reply, “I don’t wish to sweat through
my sensible clothes.”
(Only twenty dollars on sale.)

He is much too sensible to be any fun,
but fun is not all there is.
“There is science” he would suggest
If we ever were to talk,
I know he would be an excellent conversationalist

His dusty shoes tell of his wariness,
His jacket of his adventures.
(He keeps dust on his clothes to speak for his cleverness.)

“Conversation is for the simple-minded,” he would say.
“I prefer books,” would be my reply.

He would have nothing to say then,
(He doesn’t like conversation anyway.)
but he’d be too logical to let me know
Of his human blunder and illogical flash.
So he spoke to me of his action figure collection.
(“Most extensive, I’m sure”)

His teeth feral teeth
and putrid breath

does not correlate
with the pale shoulders

and soft ways of
the woman with him;

somehow they make
the Multiflora

rose, rise
and blossom.

Why do you care so much are you gay?
A question I remember often being asked.
How illogical it is to assume your child
will be anything other than straight,
to be raised on the belief that other
was either a phase or a sin.
Maybe I just care about people as human beings -
or maybe there was something more to it.
How wrong it felt to push my sexuality in a corner
and pretend it did not exist.

Once I pushed past that,
the feeling was surreal.
Finally embracing your true self
is a feeling you never forget.
I did not choose this;
To fall in love with words, personalities, feelings,
never confined to gender,
but I have accepted it.
That is what is most liberating.
I feel free.
~ I.M

all the INTPs on the internet forums think us
ENFPs are crazy,
but the secret is: deep in your logical hearts,
behind the pretenses created by your ego,
and the smug superiority of the cold unfeeling,
you've blocked out the big picture,
so taken with the idea of analyzing that
you have not seen the layers upon layers of life
and forsaken cliches while forgetting,
there was a reason 'they' started saying them-
I am intelligent-
my emotions have been carefully processed
and approved, and the idea and truth
of emotions has been carefully processed and approved,
I have taken a look at life and poked around
in the bottom of it,
and determined my course of action-
I'm not here for logic or intelligence,
or to exist in a shell of my private world,
offering an occasional analysis of theoretical possibilities.
Logically, there is no real reason to do anything
fun or spiritual at all-
you can be completely alone and that is logical,
you can never leave the house and that is logical,
you can dislike most everything and that is logical,
look, if that's how you want to live your life,
and you're happy,
then fine; but the truth of the matter is,
you have a single life, and within it, you can choose
to be happy and live as fulfilled of an experience as possible.
it is illogical to waste the short years you've got.
it is illogical to spend them unhappy with your situation.
maybe it doesn't seem like wasting to you,
maybe you are happy disliking things,
but if you dislike something, doesn't that mean you
are unhappy with the presence of it?
it makes more logical sense to enjoy things and to
be filled with emotion,
(if you separate yourself and view objectively, that is)
a logical approach to day to day life kills emotion
but a logical approach to values makes you realize you desperately need it,
so if you can detach and apply to your existence as a whole-
there's a perfect reason to die and a perfect reason to live,
but the key is that living produces more endorphins.
so for my own sake,
and within my own values and truth and experience,
I'm here for the ride.

My lips are tired even if nothing is being said yet.
It's always those 'sometimes' that's nailed to my head.
Please stop crying again.
Aren't you the one who will wipe away those tears?
Don't you get annoyed every time you are blamed?
I gained my freedom from you.

While there is still strength left, I want you to know.
Here I am swearing not to do it again,
Here I am ready to leave you,
Here I am and will live alone,
I'm here and are you still there?

Please forgive me for my train of thoughts,
It's always been illogical and selfish.
I know the past is over,
It's not worth doing anymore.
Don't you get bored every time you stare at yourself?

But now I will return again,
Just for a single moment to look at you again.
Here I am standing before you,
Here I am hoping and ready to be hurt.
I'm not going to hold back anymore.

I'm here because of you, I'm sorry, I'm a mess.
I hope you believe me.
Here I am singing confusedly.
Please understand me.